A Story by obvious pseudonym

"I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind." -Dr. Spencer Reid, criminal minds

Laying down in bed but not bothering to try and sleep. Knowing it will mever happen until the thoughts come. No matter how tired, this needs to happen. Just staring up at the ceiling thinking, thinking all these thoughts. The good, the bad and the ugly thoughts just floor you and they come without the usual restraints. After holding them back all day it is nice that they just flow through. Soon enough the thoughts are followed with laughter. They start off light and carefree. "wow that was so funny" and "haha that would be so cool if that could happen". Fun carfree senarios that would be cool and memories of the lighter sort. Then the darker thoughts flood in. Scenarios that play a thousand different ways turn disastrous. What could happen goes from laughter to tears. As fathers and mothers and friends start to die, torturous deaths. Deaths and thoughts that have to come and have to play their part so they don't come surrounded by people. Thoughts that can only be controlled through delay and procrastination. Thoughts that tell how to destroy a person, how to bring them to their knees in tears. A few well placed words that could destroy a person. Things that will never be said but are there none the less. Creating feelings of wrongness, of dirtyness, of worthlessness that thoughts couldn't possibly be this cruel. Then memories start to flow, bad memories, cruel memories. Regrets at first then taunts and teases. Words that seem to physically maim. Stupid. Worthless. Pig. Annoying. Slow. Fat. Skinny. Loser. Waste. That's when the tears start to flow and regardless of the hatred of them they are allowed to flow because if they don't come now they will come surrounded by others. A weakness only shown in private. Writing under blankets, skin with a sheen of sweat and a pillow soaked with tears of the desperate. That's when the blade flashes. Making cuts, shallow and deep alike. The feeling of pain erasing the pesky, unwanted, confusing emotions. They sting and the pain ceases to be mental replaced with physical hurt. The kind of hurt that can be easily dealt with. The cuts hurt so good the cuts help along forgetting, if only for tonight. Eventually sleep is found. Sinking into the warm welcoming embrace of Morpheus. Darkness is serene and the numbing is bliss and all things stop mattering as the void consumes the thoughts in its girth. All has ended.

© 2012 obvious pseudonym

Author's Note

obvious pseudonym
Just be honest and don't ask stupid questions

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Added on October 31, 2012
Last Updated on October 31, 2012


obvious pseudonym
obvious pseudonym

wherever i want, time machine you know, NH

so theres this fancy smancy little about me thingy on here that i have absolutly no idea what to write on sooo im just going to ramble and ramble because thats what i do best..... P.S. if you spam me.. more..